


just so i can adore you

by metalsuit



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Power Outage, Sharing a Bed, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-08 04:38:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18887338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metalsuit/pseuds/metalsuit
Summary: Steve likes hanging out in Tony's room while Tony's in the lab. It's not a thing; it's just nice, getting to avoid everyone, knowing no one knows where he is.JARVIS always warns him when Tony comes back, and Steve can make his quick escape.It's a perfect plan, until it isn't.





	just so i can adore you

**Author's Note:**

> hey! i finally finished my first marvel fic! it's very silly, and fluffy, and i love it a lot. 
> 
> BIG UPS to sam and sharon and pan for letting me yell about this for a few days. y'all are GREAT.

 

Tony’s on his third day of sleeplessness, hands shaking while he tries to fix DUM-E’s arm — damn thing got himself stuck in the closet, and it took a day and a half for Tony to hear his helpless little beeps — when the lights abruptly go off. 

He blinks fast, dropping a screwdriver and pressing a hand against his chest. His reactor is still glowing; he uses that to tighten the last bolt, patting the robot on the head with a little, “There you go, buddy.” 

Dum-E is silent. 

He’s  _ never _ silent. 

Tony frowns, patting his head again. “Bud?” he asks, and then, “JARVIS?” 

Silence, and darkness. 

He fumbles around in his drawer until he finds a flashlight — a headlamp, really, one he’d made fun of Clint for having only a few weeks ago, and look at him now — strapping it to his head and getting up, making his way to the door. 

The doors don’t open. 

“Oh, for fuck’s…” He trails off, shouldering through the doors. He isn’t sure what’s going on, but he’s just about positive that it’s fucking Thor’s fault. 

“JARVIS?” he calls again, and it’s funny, really; it’s reminiscent of when he was young, playing hide-and-seek in the dark while Howard was out of town. 

He closes his eyes tight against the onslaught of memories, one hand against the glass of the door, hand shaking a little bit. 

He has a generator in his bedroom — and of course that’s on the fourth fucking floor, and if the electricity is out (which is how it’s looking) he’s going to have to walk up the steps. 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” he groans, and makes his way up the stairs. 

*

He’s annoyed, though not out of breath, by the time he gets to his room; he slams the door open and — hears a noise? 

He’s instantly on the defensive, asking, “What the fuck are you doing here?” before he registers that — 

It’s Steve. 

Steve Rogers. 

In his room. 

He was half-asleep, from the look of it; he’s blinking groggily at Tony now, frowning. “Sorry,” he says, and before Tony can get any words out ( _ why are you in my room? _ ) his eyes go wide and he goes, “Shit.” 

Tony’s proud of many things he’s achieved in his life, but teaching Captain America to swear is up there with his favorites. 

“Yeah,” Tony says, stepping forward. “I don’t know what you’re doing here, but the power’s out, and…” He waves a hand. “Look, did you do something? Was this a prank?” 

“The electricity—what? No, not a prank,” Steve says, distractedly looking around as though he’s just realized the room is much, much darker than usual. “What happened?” 

Tony throws up his hands. He can’t talk to him, evidently. “You’re asking me? I was fixing my robot, all fine and dandy, and then everything shut off. And you’re in my room, which I have yet to get an explanation for,” he points out, crossing his arms. (As though he’s menacing in the least.) 

Steve goes red, which — oh, god, it’s horribly attractive. “I,” he says, and clears his throat. 

“Excellent start to a sentence, Rogers,” Tony says, because he’s an asshole. 

Because Steve likes him anyway, God knows why, he just rolls his eyes. “I hang out here sometimes,” he says. “When you’re downstairs, I mean.” 

Tony frowns. That wasn’t even close to what he was expecting. “ _ Why _ ?” he asks. 

Steve clears his throat. “It’s — nice in here,” he starts. Then he goes silent. 

Tony stares some more. “Is there something wrong with your room, Captain Rogers?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow. 

Steve makes a sound, shaking his head tightly. “Obviously not,” he tells him. He looks up at the ceiling. “No one knows that I hide out here, though.” 

Tony nods, sitting on the opposite end of the couch from him. “Ah. So this is you getting away from Barnes?” he asks. 

“Not just him,” Steve says, and Tony  _ certainly _ didn't expect that to be at all true—he's pretty sure they're sleeping together, which is something he's fine with, obviously. “Everyone.” 

Tony nods again, feeling something like a bobblehead. “And you didn't tell me because…” he prompts. 

Steve looks at him then, shaking his head. “I knew you'd kick me out if I asked. So I didn't ask.”

Tony frowns, squinting at him in the dim light. He takes the headlamp off, putting it between them, facing up. “Why do you think I’d kick you out?” he asks. 

Steve tucks his foot underneath himself, stretching his arm out over the back of the couch. “I’m in your room,” he points out. “You yell at people for sitting on your spot on the couch.”

Tony sighs loudly, as he always does when anyone brings  _ that  _ up. “It wasn’t  _ people _ , it was Clint,” he points out, “and I hadn’t slept in days.” 

“Still,” Steve says, as though that means anything. 

Tony narrows his eyes. “Careful, Rogers,” he says, pointing at him. “More cracks like that and I’ll kick you out.” It’s an empty threat, but Tony is (relatively) certain that Steve doesn’t know that.

There’s a flash of disappointment on Steve’s face, but as soon as Tony’s noticed it, it’s gone; it’s as though it was never there. “So I’m allowed to be in here, then?” he asks. 

Tony grins. “You are,” he agrees. “I can come bother you whenever I like now, though. You might have to find a new place to hide.” 

Steve watches him with an unreadable expression (unreadable, and that’s saying something considering how good Tony is at reading most everyone else). “Suppose that’s the price I pay for hanging out in here,” he agrees, nodding seriously. “Can’t stop you from coming into your own room, after all.” 

There’s something else there, but Tony doesn’t want to try and decipher it. Though he does remember the reason he came up here in the first place; right. Flirting can happen later. “Do you know if anyone else is here?” he asks. 

Steve just shrugs, leaning back against the couch. “Nope,” he says. 

Tony waits for more, and he doesn’t get it. “So,” he says. 

Steve looks at him. 

“Were you going to do anything about the lights? Worry about it at all?” Tony asks. Steve’s never this soft; he must have been on a hell of a sleeping pill to be this relaxed while the world may be crumbling around them. 

Steve shakes his head. “I figure you can handle it,” he says. “That, or I’m still asleep. Either way there isn’t much I can do.” 

Tony takes a long, slow breath, closing his eyes and pinching his eyes. “You’re the worst,” he sighs. “Get up. We’re going to my lab.” 

Steve frowns, tugging the blankets further over himself. “Why?” he asks. 

“Why—because I’m trying to fix this, dumbass,” Tony says. Honestly. He has no idea why he has such terrible taste in men on a regular basis, but this is worse than normal. 

“You don’t want me in your lab,” Steve says slowly, frowning at him. “You never let me in.” 

“You don’t ask,” Tony points out, though now that he thinks about it — it may not actually be a lie. Shit. 

Steve shakes his head. “Whatever,” he sighs, and then he’s sitting up properly, stretching his arms above his head and rolling his neck around. “You have a terrible couch, by the way.” 

“It isn’t terrible, you’re just tall,” Tony says, and then the next thought that pops into his head: “I’m not sure why you didn’t just try the bed.” 

Steve snorts, now stretching his legs out. “You’d actually kill me if I did that,” he says. “Are you just looking for an excuse to get mad at me?” 

“I wouldn’t kill you!” Tony insists. Honestly, he doesn’t understand why everyone thinks he’s such an asshole; well, he knows, but he doesn’t like it. “Mi bed es su bed, or whatever.” 

Steve snorts. “That doesn’t sound like the phrase,” he says, closing his eyes. 

Tony takes a second to look over his face, and finally notices the bags under his eyes, the weary set of his shoulders. “You,” he starts, and then takes a breath. “Are you doing okay?”

Steve snaps his head around to look at him, in a quick enough move that it would hurt someone else. “Of course,” he says. “Why?” 

“You’re avoiding everyone in the tower,” Tony points out. “And hiding in my room. Which I don’t mind, obviously, I don’t use it enough to — how long have you been coming up here for, by the way? — but you look tired.” 

Steve stares at him. “Just a couple of weeks,” he says slowly. “And I’m not avoiding everyone, not completely.” He pauses. “Haven’t been avoiding you, at least.” 

Tony frowns, his brain click-click-clicking along, trying to keep up with the conversation. “Why am I special?” he finally asks. He knows it’s the wrong question as soon as it’s out, but he can’t reverse time (yet), can’t pluck the words out of the air.  

“You’re always in the lab,” Steve points out, and now he’s smiling, something close to a smirk. “Don’t need to avoid you. Just don’t need to look for you.” 

Tony breathes out slowly. “Right,” he says. He sways a little. 

The next thing he knows, Steve’s hands are on both of his arms, and there’s a worried expression on his face. The couch under him is soft. 

When he looks down, he realizes he’s not on the couch anymore, but the bed. “What,” he says flatly. “Wait — are you trying to — no, Rogers,” he says. “I need to fix this.”

“It’s Danvers,” Steve says quietly, pushing some of his hair out of his eyes. “I got a text from Bucky. She was trying to heat something up and got upset. Blew out all the power on the block. They’re working on it.” 

“Danvers,” Tony repeats. 

“Carol. Captain Marvel. Avenger,” Steve says, smiling up at him. Dimly, Tony notices that his fingers are still in his hair. “Our namesake.” 

“Right,” Tony says, closing his eyes and swaying again. “So what am I meant to do, then?” 

“I don’t know,” Steve says quietly. “Sleep, maybe?” 

Tony shakes his head fast. “Can’t sleep alone,” he says, and there’s that again — that admittance that he didn’t intend to let out. “Shit, pretend you didn’t hear that — I’m fine, it’s fine.” He keeps his eyes closed; he doesn’t need to see Steve’s mocking face. 

There’s a long pause. “Do you want me to stay?” Steve asks softly. “Just sit in the bed with you? Wouldn’t be alone, then.” 

Tony should say no. He needs to say no, even; there’s no way he’s going to be able to keep from clinging to him if he gets him in his bed. 

He doesn’t say no. He doesn’t say anything, just keeps his eyes closed. 

“Okay,” Steve whispers, slipping his hand out of his hair, and that’s fine; Tony doesn’t need him to stay, doesn’t even want him to stay, just wants — 

The bed dips next to him. 

Tony looks up, and up, and up. “You,” he says, and falls silent. 

Steve smiles. “Yeah, that’s me,” he says, slipping his hand over Tony’s shoulder. “Lie down, please?” 

Tony goes easily without thinking about how it’ll look, listening to Cap without any retort, until it’s too late. 

Steve climbs over him, a movement that makes Tony’s breath hitch in his throat, and then he’s on the other side of the bed (Pepper’s side, he would have thought once, and now no one’s). 

“Steve,” Tony whispers, reaching out before he stops his hand. He’s not sure what he was going to touch, but surely it would be inappropriate. 

He doesn’t know why Steve’s still here. 

“Tony,” Steve whispers back, and then there are fingers tangled with his. “I’m going to stay, if that’s okay.” 

“You’re avoiding everyone,” Tony whispers, but he curls toward his warmth, keeping his eyes closed. If this is a dream, it’s a spectacular one; big props to his subconscious. (Unconscious? In this state, he can’t remember which it is.) 

“Not you,” Steve whispers back. He says something else, but Tony falls asleep between two breaths and doesn’t register it. 

*****

He wakes up some time later. The lights are still out, and there’s a warm pressure on his chest, stopping at the arc reactor. 

His first thought is, shit, what happened, and then, who?, and then — Steve. It’s not an unusual thought for him to wake up with. 

What is unusual, however, is that when he looks over it really is Steve there. Steve. His hand is on his chest, and he’s snoring softly.

And then, “What the fuck?” he asks aloud. 

Steve stirs a little, squeezing his eyes shut (and there’s something he didn’t need to know, how he looks when he’s just waking up, and Tony is starting to panic — he has to get out of here, how the fuck did he let himself get here —) and mumbling, “What?” 

“What,” Tony says, and clears his throat, “are you doing here?” 

Steve finally opens his eyes, giving him a soft, sleepy smile before his own eyes go wide. “Oh,” he says, moving his hand back like it’s been burned. “Shit — you don’t remember? You — you said you didn’t want to sleep alone, and I didn’t — I promise, Stark, I didn’t do anything, just —”

Tony feels like he’s caught his breath again. They didn’t — okay. Steve was just doing that Captain America thing, taking care of his team. “I remember,” he says. “I expected you to leave as soon as I was out.” 

“Well,” Steve says, and now he’s blushing, and Tony files that away in his brain of things to think about when he jerks off later, “I was going to, but I thought… if you hate sleeping alone, you probably hate waking up alone, too.” He pauses. “Also, I fell asleep.” 

Tony smiles at that, letting the smile linger on his face for probably a second (two, three) longer than he should. “Well,” he says, clearing his throat. “Your duty is done then, so.” He nods toward the door. “You can leave.” 

(They always leave; not even Steve Rogers would want to stay a moment longer than he has to, Tony’s sure. He has no feelings about that. None at all.) 

Steve shrugs, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “I’d rather not,” he murmurs. “Power’s still out… might get lonely in my room.” 

Tony’s still asleep. That’s the only explanation he can come up with for this. “Am I dreaming?” he asks aloud, and then corrects himself — “Of course I am, sorry, shit. Sure, stay as long as you want, then.” 

“Why would you be dreaming?” Steve asks, and there’s a little smirk on his face now (an actual smirk; he’ll have to add that to his collection of images. It’s a shame JARVIS isn’t working right now, can’t record it. Ah, well). 

Tony laughs, throwing his arm over his eyes. “People don’t generally stay in my bed longer than they need to,” he points out. 

There’s a sudden sharp poke on his side. He yelps, looking over at Steve. “What the fuck?” 

“You’re not dreaming,” Steve says. “Just proved it, didn’t I? Can’t feel pain in dreams.” 

“That’s not actually true,” Tony murmurs (breathes), staring at him as he gets closer, shifting his legs under the blankets. “You can, just—” 

“And why wouldn’t I want to stay?” Steve asks softly, face set like he is before a fight. 

It’s terribly attractive. Tony is fucked. He knew that before, obviously, he’s known that since fucking 2012, but it bears repeating every time Steve gives him a look like that. 

Tony frowns. “Because,” he starts. “You, uh — you come here to avoid people, not to — be with people. Least of all me.” Once again, that’s a thing he has absolutely zero feelings about. 

Steve laughs, the dick. He shakes his head. “If I admit something,” he says slowly, “do you promise not to kick me off the team?” 

Tony frowns. “Sure,” he says automatically. 

“I come to your room specifically,” Steve says, and then he pauses for long enough that Tony wonders if that’s the full sentence. 

He’s tempted to interrupt, but too curious about what else he’s hiding to actually do it. 

Steve swallows; Tony watches. “I come here in particular because — fuck. I like pretending that you want me here.” He shrugs. He’s staring at a spot over Tony’s shoulder. 

Tony feels like all of the wind has been knocked out of him. “Why?” he finally asks. 

Steve laughs, squeezing his eyes shut and rolling onto his own back. “I like pretending we’re friends,” he says. 

“We are friends,” Tony says automatically, and then, taking a leap, “you’re the only one who could come in here without me.” 

Steve turns to stare at him, and fuck, fuck, Tony read this wrong, he — 

“What?” Steve asks, and there’s something akin to hope in his voice. 

Tony jumps again. “I set it so that if you ever needed… anything, you could just come in. If you asked please, obviously, I’m not an idiot, and I knew I needed to put up some sort of password—” 

He’s cut off by Steve’s hand on his cheek, soft, so soft. 

He stares. “Rogers,” he whispers, throat clicking when he swallows. “What are you doing?” 

“I was,” Steve trails off, and then just — leans in and kisses him, quick enough that Tony’s still got his eyes open when he does it. “Sorry,” he whispers, but Tony’s not letting him get away with that.

Tony follows when he tries to pull back, kissing him again. He’s not sure what it is that he did to make Steve try that, but he’s obviously not complaining.

He feels Steve smile against his mouth, hears a breathless giggle, and — okay. Okay. 

“Okay?” he whispers. 

“Shut up,” Steve whispers, and there’s something like love there, love, and warmth, and Tony just kisses him again, rolling closer until they’re pressed together, chests and legs and mouths. 

Steve strokes a hand through his hair, kissing him again, and he doesn’t leave. 

So this — maybe it’s a thing he can get used to this.

(The lights turn on while they’re kissing, soft and slow, and Steve only pulls back to murmur, “JARVIS, give us some privacy, please.” He waits until the lights go off to kiss him again, and Tony just — 

Well. He giggles as well, rolling onto his back and tugging Steve with him.)    
  


**Author's Note:**

> i'm on twitter @nothalfasgood, if anyone wants to talk to me! :)


End file.
